"Achoo!"
"Shhhhh!" I pinch my nose with my fingers and open another file. Dust flies into the air in clouds, and I cough. They haven't even been in here long, I think.
"Found anything?" Holly peers through the gap in the bookcases, still bright eyed despite the onslaught of dust and musty air.
"Nope," I grumble.
"Oh my, your eyes are so red! Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just... ACHOO..." I wipe my nose with my kerchief. "Allergies."
She pops her head back, and I hear an "OOH!"
"What!?"
"SHHH!"
I look back at the librarian and shrug, before finding Holly in the oldest section of our articles.
"Aren't those the ones - " She holds up the photograph and I gasp. It's a picture from my first case. The Screaming Staircase. George, Lockwood and I all have our arms around each other and we're beaming. Obviously we are tired, but beaming. I melt a little inside and look up at Holly. "It's perfect."
I stop outside Lockwood's door, and pause with my knuckles just a few centimeters from the wood. I look down at the photograph in my hand, the frame wrapped carefully in brown paper and take a deep breath, before knocking on the door. It opens straight away, and I see a dishevelled Anthony Lockwood in front of me, looking more like a boy than a man. His hair is sticking up in all directions, his eyes are bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles and his nightshirt is crumpled as if he had a bad night's sleep.
"Lucy?"
